Author's Note: I truthfully didn't intend to disappear for a (two?) month. My reason is probably not a legit one, either: I HAVE OBLIVION TO FUNCTION PROPERLY AND NOT CRASH EVERY FEW MINUTES AGAIN! Well, my brother did most of the tinkering and all that, but STILL! Ooooh the joooooooyyyyyy.

(Despite having the game, I don't think I can show the world my re-creation of Josephus. It's been too long since I last played and I forgot how to make him and so Present-In-Game Josephus looks far from what Blood of the Septim depicted him and so very far from fangirl material SUE ME)

-~O~-

Chapter 13: Unease

-~O~-

Niera watched silently as Linne sat on top of a bed—probably chosen by random—and continued dabbing the cut on her arm with a small cloth, wetted with a healing potion Antoinetta had been kind enough to make for her. The sisters eyed each other, before Niera looked away to the other inhabitants in the living quarters.

Antoinetta was busying herself by reading a book, so far ignoring the other Bretons in the room. Teinaava had taken his leave to train in the training room a few moments ago—for a moment Niera wondered if he by chance already met Linne on his way there. Antoinetta glanced up when she felt Niera staring at her, but Niera looked away quickly.

"So, how was the last contract you did before going to that secretive meeting of yours?" asked Antoinetta, her smile barely hidden.

"Which one?" she asked, meeting the Breton's eye, trying to sound smug. "The one where I killed Adamus Phillida, or the Altmer mother who should know better than to drown her husband? They did happen one after another, anyways." Then she scoffed. "I think Ocheeva forgot the reward for the latter."

If Antoinetta was irritated, she hid the emotion well. "I ask of the former, of course, sister. I could care less about family matters."

"There is nothing much to say about it. I followed Phillida for about three days, trying to find the safest spot to kill him." She looked back down at her wound. It was cleaner now, and the blood was only a thin line where the Harrada had lashed at her. She shifted in her seat so that she could see Antoinetta better. "The man went for a swim when I climbed atop a roof in Leyawiin. It wasn't the best spot, as after I shot the Rose of Sithis I could easily be seen, but I was quick enough to avoid that mess."

Antoinetta nodded. "But how so?"

"Houses in Leyawiin are tall, I have to admit. But they are easy to climb down, though difficult in the night." Niera chuckled. "And let's not forget that a good Chameleon spell is a life saver in these situations."

Before Antoinetta could open her mouth, Niera continued. "But, I was not about to escape from a bonus. Not yet."

"What did you have to do?" she asked, flipping a page of her book, though her attention was to the other Breton woman.

Niera grinned. "I walked over to his corpse before his bodyguard could alarm nearby citizens, and cut off his finger, where he was wearing his ring. If time wasn't a priority at that contract, I would have mutilated more than just his finger. I may have stolen a few keys, as well, but he is dead, anyways.

"I went to the Imperial City, which was an exhausting journey on foot, so I stole a horse from the stables in Bravil. It did not take an entire day to reach the City, though my horse protested greatly from his exhaustion. I went into the city, sneaking into the Imperial Prison. It was an hour after midnight, I believe, and there shouldn't be many guards then. And I was right.

"I headed to a desk in the Imperial Legion Offices, and picked the lock on the desk I was supposed to put it in. I decided the chest on the left side was too full, so I grabbed a few goods. Nothing wrong with thieving from the Imperial Legion, right?"

"Oh, Niera," Antoinetta laughed. "You are one greedy—"

"I am not finished yet," Niera cut off, "and I'd rather tell the whole tale now rather than continuing it later.

"I was wrong in my previous calculations, where I thought that my timing was more or less perfect." Antoinetta snorted, Niera glared, Linne held her breath. Niera, however, continued as if the minor intrusion meant little to her. "It was about dawn when I exited the office. There were guards who saw me, and was about to chase me. I did not have time for a chameleon spell, so I entered the office once more and went to the basement. I don't know what I was thinking when trapping myself in the Office was a good idea, but it was better than nothing. There were many barrels and crates in the basement, and an idea sprung in my head."

"Don't tell me you hid inside one of them?" Linne asked in excitement. The two other Bretons looked at her in surprise, and Linne blushed, looking back down.

"My sister guessed right," answered Niera after a moment. "One of the barrels was big enough for my body. I admit I have had enough of hiding inside barrels and crates, but it was better than being discovered. So I waited, and waited, long after the guards have prodded around the room. I took a peek into the office and found it was empty. Thinking it was a trap, I put on a chameleon spell just in case. When I went out from the building, they were having a funeral for the dead man. Sad, truly. I think it was sadder that I picked one of the richer of the guard's pockets."

A quiet laughter came out from Niera's listeners. Antoinetta was grinning, but Linne was obviously hiding her unease. Niera glanced at her briefly, met her eyes, and turned away.

The wind was blowing, rather mockingly, strong and cold, bringing Josephus' body into shivers every now and then. Or was it just his lack of sleep catching up on him? Whatever adrenaline he had left, it must have been gone, blown away by the wind. But the worst pain of all resided in his right leg, where it numbed the limb and whenever his leg shifted just in the slightest, a sharp, prickling feel bit his leg.

"How much farther until Bruma?" Josephus called out. The day was still very young, but Bruma never felt this far from Cloud Ruler Temple.

Cyrus, who was one of the Blades in the escort party, laughed. "Arse getting sore already? We're not even down the mountain to Bruma yet. If I were you, I'd be patient like the others."

Too tired to make a comeback, Josephus stirred in his saddle. Whether he liked it or not, Cyrus was right. His arse was beginning to get sore. Now he regretted refusing the offer of sleeping first before heading to the Imperial City. His head was aching, his stomach growling every now again in hunger, and overall, he was tired. No rest for the weary, he kept thinking, but I'm not weary, so I should be allowed to rest.

At least the world would be fairer if he could just lay down and sleep.

"Josephus, friend," a voice called. Not loud, not quiet. Martin was riding beside him, looking better suited to play the part of hero rather than his saddle sore friend. "How are you holding up?"

Josephus tried to smile, but the effort itself was too much for him. Instead, he shrugged. "I've been worse. Lack of sleep couldn't stop the glorious hero from marching towards the Imperial City. I've even read about gods defeating Mehrunes Dagon in their sleep."

"Was it the book by Carlovac Townway?" asked Martin. "I forgot which one from the series, but I distinctly remember that Almalexia and Sotha Sil did not send back Dagon by sleeping."

"That's where you're wrong. They didn't just sleep, they also defeated Mehrunes Dagon." Even his words sounded nonsensical, but in his exhausted state, he did not muster the need to care. "And... there was all that battle in that castle—whatsitsname—and bam." He clapped his hands, though considering the sloping mountain road, his fatigue, and his horse's stubbornness, the action was extremely dangerous. "Dagon went back to Oblivion. Why can't I do the same?"

Martin smiled. "Well, friend, I do not mean to offend you, but you are not a god."

"No sense in correcting that, I suppose, though Josephus, God of Beauty has a nice ring to it. Dibella will be envious."

"Second," continued Martin, before Josephus' remarks could properly set in its effects on the former priest's mind, "The Last Year of the First Era was a work of historical fiction. It was exaggerated on certain points—"

"I understand what historical fiction means... Sire." He shook his head, stopping his eyes from drooping. "I could use a bit of ale, truthfully. And a pillow, if you please."

Martin clicked his tongue, which somewhat irritated Josephus. "I've offered you a day of rest, and you flat out refused it. I told you to get proper sleep, and you only said, 'Oh, no! We must arrive at the Imperial City in three seconds!' and stormed off the Great Hall." He paused thoughtfully. "And what were the things you said about no rest again? Oh, right, no rest for the weary. Happy riding."

Martin's horse spurred to a small trot, but her rider looked back at Josephus. "I almost forgot. We will stop at Bruma to gather a few supplies. It seems that in such a hurry to leave for the capital, we did not even bring food... or tents..." He shrugged. "Maybe we could even have the stubborn arse to sleep."

And in a few seconds, Martin Septim rode off, catching up with the escort party. Josephus did not even feel hurt from the insult, or realise that he was going very slow. He grumbled. "Thanks for letting me know, sire."

Linne pointed to the piece of paper that rested on Niera's desk. "What's that?"

"Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?" her sister replied, still crushing the mush of green and brown contained in the mortar and pestle. "You've got a big day ahead of you, if you want to start your life as a brotherhood member."

Linne waved her sister's comment off. "Ocheeva explained already, no need to repeat something I know now."

Niera turned back to the concoction she was making, and Linne's interest turned to it. "Is that the potion that your 'friend' needed? The one you went into Oblivion to just to get it?"

"Can't you clearly see that I did not manage to gather the Harrada roots?" Niera asked, irritated. "Did you not spend a full hour harvesting Milk Thistle?" She turned to look at the room, which was empty save for the two of them. "Listen. I lied. I may have said that a friend needed it, but in truth, it was a lie."

"...And?" Linne prodded, when Niera did not continue.

"And that answers your question. There was no friend in the beginning. I needed the poison for... a contract. I'll need to leave today, I think." Without a second of hesitation, she turned her attention back to the poison she was making.

Linne nodded. "Will you tell me where this contract will take you?"

Niera paused for a moment, then added another petal of the milk thistle. "No."

"Who do you need to kill?"

"A group of people. An organisation. That's all you need to know." Not stopping for a breath, she continued, "Now, please leave me be. I don't want my poison to be imperfect just because I chatted idly with my sister."

She speaks of her contracts so easily... "Niera..." That managed to get her sister's attention, though only barely. She was still adding a few petals of milk thistle, and mixing small branches, methodically mashing them until they were only a thick glop of light purple with green specks in it. "Is it... true, when you killed that—that guard captain?"

The silence that enveloped them was as dangerous as Niera's tone. "Do you think I lied, Linne?"

"No, I don't."

"Then why do you ask if you know I told the truth?" she said, her voice low, close to a whisper. "Why would I lie to my fellow dark brothers and sisters?" Niera turned in her seat, her blue eyes almost shining with tears. But that was only the candlelight on the table in the corner, and the dimness where the candle did not shine to them.

Or was Niera truly on the brink of tearing up again? Linne could not even tell. "The way you told them was... unalike to how you tell them to me, I was almost convinced you were a different person then. You told them so indifferently, so guiltless—"

Niera chuckled at that, a small smile appearing on her face, but Linne knew that the nature of her amusement was Linne's silliness. Her words even told it true. "You are still such a naïve girl, Linne. You have a lot to learn."

Then teach me, Linne wanted to say. What she did, however, was only bowing her head, pretending to understand.

"There are two types of people in this world, Linne," Niera said, not taking her eyes away from Linne. And she could feel them, looking at her. "The honest, and the liar. Yet the former seems to be rare these days. I did not tell them my honest feelings..." Here, Niera finally looked down to the floor, and Linne glanced at her sister forming a thin lipped frown. "Because it will only embarrass me. I was, however, honest with myself by saving the trouble of being ashamed of this guilt. This haunting feelings, these ghosts of those victims that linger on."

Slowly, Niera turned back to the mortar and pestle, continuing to add a few more petals, a bit of water, and maybe a few small branches.

Linne walked away, not really looking where she was going, so she was responsible of her own tumble. "Ow! What was that?" she asked to no-one in particular, and then saw the orb rolling from underneath the white bed sheet that was thrown on it, maybe to cover it.

Niera's attention turned once more to her sister. Before she could snatch away the item in question, however, Linne had her hands around it, no longer feeling the heat it radiated. That was strange. Previously, on the road, it had nearly burned through Linne's glove. She stared at it deeply before it was seized by her sister, who put the orb on her desk wordlessly. "I was still handling that."

"No, you were not. It's not even yours. I did not give you permission to poke around my belongings. What use does it serve you, anyways?" Niera's tone was firm, and there was no way Linne could persuade her otherwise. "Go to sleep Linne. You'll need it if you are to see Vicente tomorrow."

"I don't need to see him on the morrow—"

"He specifically observes new recruits, Linne. It is a process I also go through, so don't think that you could get away with it." Niera made sure that the ball wouldn't roll down the desk before turning herself around to face Linne completely, her face showing only a portion of the irritation she held within. "Do not brush this first meeting away as if it is not important. He will be the one to give you contracts from now. While the tenets stop him from killing unpromising recruits, if he holds a grudge against you, he'll make sure your next contract will be a stone that kills two birds."

As if I don't need anything else to fear tonight, she thought, and to think I'll live in the same building as the man. "Anything else I should remember so I won't be murdered in my first contract?" she asked, forgetting their previous conversation. It seemed that Niera also preferred that they ignore Niera's words of wisdom.

"Vicente is... not as he seem." When Niera said that, she hesitated so much that she spoke very quietly. Like she was hiding something. "If he looks menacing to you—I am using the word very loosely—then you would need to excuse him. I believe he hasn't left the Sanctuary for two—for a few years."

Linne crossed her hands, expecting Niera to elaborate just what she meant by 'menacing' when Teinaava—since he was only the Argonian male in the brotherhood, as was explained briefly by Antoinetta, Linne assumed it was him—entered the room, his scales shining and slick. Linne was not even completely certain if Argonians were capable of sweating. He looked at Linne and smiled. "The new recruit, are you?"

Returning the smile, Linne nodded. "My name is Linne. Niera's sister."

"Teinaava. Ocheeva's brother." He went to the seat that Antoinetta had previously sat on to explain to Linne a less than accurate version of the rules in the brotherhood, somehow adding more unnecessary details than needed—"It would be troublesome to have any sort of 'affair' in the Brotherhood, so remember that. Speaking of affairs..."—and made himself comfortable, picking up a book on the nearby table and then showing a disgusted look. "Ocheeva should know better than to leave her favourite book out, and forgetting to put it away."

"Where is she, by the way? She didn't seem to give my sister a tour of the sanctuary like she did with me last time. I'm afraid if Linne would stumble upon the rat and scare herself," Niera said, a sympathetic look on her face.

Linne sighed. "It's alright, dear sister. Now that you've mentioned rats, I know what I should expect." She had helped a bit in the Cheydinhal Bridge Inn. Mostly dealing with the rats. In return, Mariana, the publican would give her a glass of mead. No more than half a glass, though, since she said that it would be bad for Linne's young mind.

"Ocheeva said she needed to speak to Vicente, though I don't know what. Garlic in his soup again, maybe—" Upon seeing Linne's curious look, though, he quickly added, "You know how he values how his breath smelled."

Niera nodded and went back to adding a few droplets of water to her paralyzing poison. "Maybe I need to speak to him, too." Not even looking at Linne, she added casually, "No, not about you, don't worry, sister."

"I—never mind." Linne chose to sit down on her bed once more, which was forgotten ever since she stumbled upon that strange orb Niera kept away from her. Perhaps one day she could ask about it, but obviously now Niera was cross at her for some reason. Or just plainly angry at the world once more.

It took a while, but after the fifth or sixth time she contemplated Lachance's small riddle, Niera pieced together what she thought might be the answer.

Long before she was sure Linne was asleep, she left the room, her plan only vague pieces of fabric threaded together with thin, almost invisible string. But she knew for a fact that vampires, with their supernatural strengths, even with their weakness to sunlight, were immune to a good amount of magic. Maybe even her own potent poison, if the wives' tales were true.

Niera went down the corridor towards Vicente's chambers, turned where it turned and went down when it sloped. For a while it was dark until she passed by a torch, and for a while it was dead silent before she heard M'raaj-Dar's mutterings. When she passed him, the Khajiit looked and her and scowled, as usual. She ignored him, knowing well that if she said anything it would only make things a lot worse, and attempting to befriend the Khajiit was almost pointless.

The closer she went to the double doors at the end of corridor, the more her uncertainty grew. How could she possibly ask the vampire on how to paralyse himself? The blunt nature of the question irked Niera as she cringed. She stopped in front of the doors, hearing Ocheeva's voice talking over Vicente's. The worst of all was that while Ocheeva sounded riled up, Vicente gave no hint of ever growing furious. His tone was calm, almost expressionless, even though Niera could not comprehend a word they were saying.

This will take a while, she guessed, and leaned against a wall. When the posture was too uncomfortable, she slid down and sat on the cold floors, waiting second by second until Ocheeva appears from the doors.

When a quarter of an hour went to a half, and a half turned to a full hour, she grew impatient and decided enough was enough. All this waiting and delaying was making her even more anxious, but she had not even thought of a single word to say to Vicente that would be proper of her. She was, to the knowledge of the other members, a newly appointed Assassin. And besides Lachance and herself, there was not a single soul who knew that she was Silencer to Lucien Lachance. In fact, maybe none of them believed that she was actually summoned by the Speaker. And it was only their speculation that she had a meeting with Lachance.

I am much too sober for this, she thought grimly, about to stand up and knock on the door without so much as a second thought when Ocheeva appeared, finally. She looked briefly at Niera before walking away, into the dark corridor. The Breton stood up and looked at the direction of the Argonian, but could see nothing in this lighting. She sighed.

She walked over to where the door was opened, and saw Vicente sitting on a seat, a closed book on the table, his hands folded neatly on his lap. The epitome of calm and indifference. Niera shivered all over her body, closing the door behind her. It has to happen, sooner or later, eh? His red eyes looked at her, but not giving away anything in he was thinking. Lachance better repay me adequately.

"Did you overhear our conversation?" the Vampire asked, though it was more curious than accusatory. "You must forgive us. Ocheeva wishes no harm on my part, but it seems that no one is a better cook than Antoinetta, since she puts garlic on everything she cooks. Somehow she was offended by the fact that she should hire a proper chef. It was only a jest."

Niera tried to smile, but whatever appeared on her face must have been a disgrace of a smile. "I didn't overhear anything, but judging from Ocheeva's look when she passed me she was well past the border of offended. I've never seen her so angry before."

"It has happened once, before you arrived." He waved a pale, wrinkled hand in dismissal. "But I'm sure you're not here to discuss about our Sanctuary's mistress. What did you want to talk about?"

It took longer than Niera would have liked, but she had no better way of saying it. "I... wish to know more about vampirism." She looked at the book on the table, which was nothing else but The Five Tenets. "But if I interrupted your reading, I could ask another time. I didn't want—"

He furrowed his dark brown brows, looking at the object in question. "What, this?" He picked it up, considering it for a while, maybe, and then put it back to its original position on the table. "I have put this down even before Ocheeva entered. You were interrupting nothing."

"Maybe you wanted to continue reading it now, and I was interrupting that—"

"Do not speak such nonsense, sister," he interrupted, and even in the calmness which he replied with, there was firmness in his words. She shouldn't ramble, she knew, but she couldn't help but avoid the subject of the dark gift he offered months ago.

She nodded. "Forgive me," she said, completely sincere, "then you wouldn't mind in me asking about... your... your condition?"

Vicente looked at her the way she would usually look at others, calculating and considering, analyzing her face for an explanation for her strange fear of vampirism, or her reluctance to speak of it, before he gestured to the chair beside him. "Take a seat, then. I am sure you have plenty of questions."

Hesitantly, she walked over to the seat she was offered. When she settled herself, however, she wanted nothing more than to run away from this room. Damn it, Niera. Toughen up! "Is there a cure for vampirism once I turn? What are some benefits of it? The down sides? How could I know when I should feed and where to—"

"Sister, do calm yourself." Vicente held a hand to stop her barrage of questions. He chuckled. "One at a time, please. 'Is there a cure for vampirism?' There is, though maybe it would be difficult to acquire one. Raminus Polus in the Arcane University studied about this subject. He'd give you a better explanation."

When he stopped talking, Niera planned on her words. "What are some immunities that a vampire has?"

"Most poisons and diseases. Sometimes some magic, if you recently fed."

"Magic?" she asked, "What sorts?"

"Destruction magics, for the most part," he answered. "There are books that cover this matter, yet for the life of me I can't recall them at the moment."

She hesitated. "Feeding?"

"It is not easy, being unseen while drinking one's blood." For a second, Vicente's bright red eyes turned dark as blood. Or was it the candle between them? "But eventually you would get the knack of it, and since you are a member of the Dark Brotherhood..." He gestured towards her. "It will not be difficult for you, I'm sure. But I'm guessing that you mean to ask of the benefits after feeding. It is almost like a normal human's hunger, truly. The more you eat, the stronger you are. Eating over your own capacity, however... you might become more than slightly blood lusted."

The thought of ever consuming blood sickened Niera, and a bitter taste in her mouth reminded just how she hated vampires ever since she had come in close encounters to be food for it. She did not realise that she was scowling, however, because Vicente turned concerned. "Are you alright, sister?"

"Yes," she answered simply. He was about to reply to that when she continued her line of questions. "If I am a vampire, can I still be affected with paralysis? Technically, their bodies stopped some of its functions. Wouldn't paralysis have no effect on them, then?"

He considered this. "You are true in that."

"If I am to go out in daylight completely covering my entire body, will that still hurt?"

"I am starting to think you are asking hypothetical questions, Niera. Who would ever cover themselves completely?" He gave her a smile which she did not return. "Are you asking me that you would want to accept the dark gift I offered you?"

When his words sunk into her understanding, she vividly remembered the contract she was given so long ago that she was sure that she had forgotten, and she was supposed to forget it.

The contract was simple enough. No special requirements; no request for a specific body part to be dismembered, no need to hide the body... The contract only needed someone to kill a 'weak and dying vampire', yet before Niera could silently slide her blade against his throat, he turned his pale red eyes to her, hard and unwelcoming, cold and terrifying. It was all planned perfectly—she had scoured the house of an escape route and found three, she already went inside undetected...

Yet, his eyes bore deeply into hers and a fear she had never known to exist engulfed her. His hand was gripping her wrist, almost crushing it with his immense strength. He could lift it up to his fangs easily... so easily... "Who are you? What are you doing? Why are you here?" he had hissed at her with complete of hatred. Then, he sneered. "Are you volunteering to be my food?"

"Sister, you do not look well." Vicente grabbed her by the her hand, perhaps to help her stand up, but her head snapped towards him, and snatched her hands away.

"Don't touch me!" she snapped. The surprise on Vicente's face was evident after his usual emotionless appearance. The world she remembered disappeared and she was there, in front of the innocent—innocent? He was far from innocent—vampire, and she lost the words she wanted to say. "I—Forgive me. I must return to the living quarters, I don't feel quite well."

If anything was hypocritical, it was the fact that Niera stormed off just quite like Ocheeva did, when she promised herself she would be anything but suspicious. She was breathless once she reached the great hall, and for once, she was grateful of the empty halls. At least nobody then could see the unease etched on her face.

-~O~-

Aside from my apologies for updating after a (two?) month of silence, I have nothing to say.

Except that you should definitely read 2920, The Last Year of the First Era if you haven't. It's an in-game book, so it probably has a bit of umm... lore. (and it's amazing cue Tribunal fangirling)

P.S to those reading this as this is updated: I think my two months of silence gave me ample time to complete chapter fourteen. I'll upload it in a bit. Or a few more days. Still needs a bit of editing.